Morning came too early.
Not the kind of morning where birds sing and sunshine makes you want to smile. No, this was the kind of morning where the sky hung heavy with clouds, and the academy's trial grounds felt like a place designed to break people—physically and mentally.
I lay on the cold stone floor of the temporary barracks, staring at the ceiling. Around me, other candidates were already awake, tightening armor, sharpening weapons, or muttering prayers to gods I'd never heard of. The smell of metal, oil, and stale sweat filled the air.
"Up, Riven. It's the big day."
Erynd's voice cut through my half-asleep brain. He was crouched next to me, grinning like a kid about to jump off a roof. His sword—still chipped from yesterday—was strapped to his back with a torn leather belt. I wondered if he'd actually survived yesterday on skill or sheer stubbornness. Probably both.
"I was up," I muttered. "I was just… resting my eyes."
"Resting your eyes? Bro, you looked dead. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were already practicing your funeral pose."
I sat up, rubbing the back of my neck. "That's my secret. I'm always dead inside."
Erynd laughed so loud that half the barracks turned to glare at him.
We gathered in the outer yard where the final trial would begin. A broad platform rose in the middle, carved with glowing runes that pulsed with a faint hum of magic. Proctors stood around it, their robes and armor marking them as seasoned mages, knights, and instructors.
One of them, a tall man with a gray beard and scars running down his left cheek, stepped forward. His voice boomed like thunder:
"Candidates. Welcome to your final test. This is not a duel, nor a simple hunt. Today, you face The Gauntlet."
The murmurs started immediately. Even Erynd, who had been joking nonstop, stopped grinning.
The Gauntlet. Just the name felt like bad news wrapped in worse news.
"Within these walls," the proctor continued, pointing to the towering stone arena behind him, "you will find a labyrinth. Traps, monsters, and illusions will test your strength, wit, and will to survive. Work alone, or form alliances—your choice. Only the last standing, or those who reach the core, will pass."
"Sounds fun," I whispered.
Erynd gave me a look. "You have a terrible definition of fun."
The gates opened with a deep, grinding sound. A chill breeze swept through, carrying the metallic scent of blood. I followed Erynd into the labyrinth, trying to ignore the fact that everyone else seemed way too prepared. Nobles with glowing swords, elves chanting mana spells under their breath, even a beastkin girl with tiger ears twitched like she could smell danger already.
I, on the other hand, had… nothing. Just a torn hoodie, a pocketful of bad luck, and a shadow that occasionally decided to save my life.
The first hallway stretched into darkness. The walls were damp, etched with strange, shifting runes. I heard a hiss somewhere ahead, and my gut screamed that something bad was waiting.
"Stick close," Erynd whispered. "I'll handle whatever's out there."
I snorted. "Yeah, sure. Because your wooden toothpick of a sword is definitely indestructible."
"It's called trust, Riven. Ever heard of it?"
"Nope."
The hiss turned into a roar. Something big and ugly burst from the shadows—a hulking beast with black scales and too many eyes.
"Plan?" I asked.
"Hit it until it dies!" Erynd yelled, charging forward.
…Why did I even ask?
I stumbled backward, grabbing a broken spear from the ground. The beast lunged at me first—probably because I looked like the easier meal. I swung the spear like a bat, missed, and almost tripped over my own shadow.
Then my shadow moved again.
It shot upward, sharp and black as midnight, slicing across the beast's face. It howled, thrashing wildly.
Erynd's jaw dropped. "You… can do that?"
"Uh, yes?" I said, pretending I totally meant to do that. "Of course. Tactical shadow… stuff."
The labyrinth didn't get easier.
We ran through traps—spiked floors, falling blades, fire runes that lit up like someone hated us personally. We fought smaller monsters, from batlike creatures that swooped out of nowhere to snake-like things that spat acid.
Every time I thought I was done, my shadow acted like it was on autopilot—blocking attacks, tripping enemies, or striking with inhuman precision. I didn't know if I should thank it or be terrified.
At one point, I swore I heard it again.
"Closer. Just a little closer…"
By the time we found a resting alcove, Erynd was breathing hard and grinning like a madman.
"You're full of surprises, Riven. You know that?"
"Yeah," I said, leaning against the wall. "I surprise myself too. Mostly by not dying."
Erynd laughed again. "We're definitely making it through this. I can feel it."
I wished I shared his optimism.
The labyrinth wasn't a maze—it was a nightmare pretending to be one. Every path looked the same, the walls shifting like they were alive, and the faint glow of runes flickered just enough to make you question if something was watching from the corners.
Erynd was still grinning, swinging his wooden sword like it was Excalibur. "We've got this, Riven. Just a few more monsters, maybe a trap or three, and—"
A screech tore through the halls.
"—and I jinxed us," he finished.
From the left tunnel, a pack of wolf-like beasts padded out, their fur shimmering with steel-like spikes. From the right, two armored nobles approached, their weapons glowing with enchantments.
"Well, this is awkward," I said.
"Step aside, peasants," one of the nobles sneered. "We'll handle this. Or better yet, you can be the bait."
Erynd stepped forward, his hand tightening on his sword. "Watch your mouth."
I groaned. "Erynd, let them have their ego trip. It's easier for us if the wolves chew on them first."
"Coward," the other noble muttered.
"Realist," I corrected.
The wolves lunged. The nobles went in swinging, sparks flying as enchanted blades clashed with steel fur. It was impressive, I'll give them that—until one wolf slipped past and came straight for me.
I braced for impact.
The shadow beneath my feet rippled like water, shooting up like a wall. The wolf slammed into it, snarling, before dark tendrils lashed out and flung it backward.
The nobles froze mid-swing.
"…What was that?" one demanded.
"Uh…" I scratched my neck. "Pure skill?"
Erynd smirked. "More like pure something. Didn't know you had tricks like that."
"Neither did I," I muttered.
We didn't stick around for questions. The wolves, now confused and scattered, gave us a chance to bolt down another corridor. The nobles shouted something behind us, but I wasn't in the mood to entertain them.
"Okay," Erynd panted, "you have to tell me what that shadow thing is. That's not normal."
"Define normal," I said. "Because I'm pretty sure nothing about today qualifies."
The labyrinth grew darker as we pushed deeper. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the walls, almost like they were pulsing with a heartbeat. I felt it—the shadows under my feet twitching, like they were alive.
Closer, the whisper came again. A low, resonant voice, impossible to ignore now. Closer to me.
I froze.
"Riven?" Erynd asked.
"…Nothing. Just a creepy vibe," I said, forcing a grin.
The final chamber wasn't what I expected.
Instead of a treasure chest or some glowing exit, it was a cavernous room with a single black crystal at its center. The crystal was huge—twice my height—and it radiated a pressure so heavy it felt like the air itself was weighing me down.
The other candidates had started to gather here, each group finding a different entrance. Nobles, elves, beastkin—all staring at the crystal like it was both beautiful and terrifying.
"What is that thing?" Erynd whispered.
"No clue," I said. "But it's giving me the 'touch me and die' vibe."
A proctor's voice boomed through the chamber, magically amplified:
"Congratulations on reaching the core of the labyrinth. The final test is simple: claim the crystal. Only those who can withstand its power are worthy of entering the academy."
"Simple, huh?" I muttered. "I hate that word."
The first noble stepped forward, his sword glowing with fire runes. He reached for the crystal—and was flung backward like a rag doll, smashing into the wall with a scream.
"Well," I said. "That's comforting."
The room erupted into chaos as candidates tried their luck. Elves summoned vines, beastkin used raw strength, and nobles hurled spells. The crystal absorbed everything, its surface darkening and pulsing faster.
Then the cracks appeared.
Not in the crystal—in my shadow.
A surge of cold power shot up my spine, and I stumbled forward. My shadow stretched across the floor, reaching toward the crystal like it was calling me. I could feel it—a connection, deep and ancient.
"Riven! What are you doing?!" Erynd shouted.
"…Honestly? I have no idea."
The crystal pulsed again, and I saw something—just for a moment. A silhouette standing within my shadow, tall and armored, with glowing eyes staring back at me.
"Soon," it whispered.
The ground beneath me cracked. Shadows exploded outward, forming a protective dome that pushed back everyone in the chamber. Screams filled the air as candidates scrambled to escape the darkness.
And just like that, it stopped.
I was standing in front of the crystal, untouched, while everyone else stared like I'd just grown horns.
"…Okay," I said, breaking the silence. "Who wants to explain what just happened? Because I'm confused too."
No one answered.